Ausra One Shot
by meggochondria
Summary: A one shot about an orcish woman and her lost love.
Ausra

The storm clouds gathered upon the opposite side of Solitude, coming closer, threatening with thunder claps as loud as ever. The rain could be heard from a distance and the sound of shuffling feet over cobblestone created a tiny rhythm from my window above the small market. Mothers hurried their children along towards home and they resisted until threatened with punishment or offered a small sweet. A couple a little ways down the road walked holding hands; the first raindrops began to fall and I watched him cover her head with his cloak as they ran into the local pub. I felt myself grow heavier in my seat as he put his arm around her affectionately.

I dropped my eyes and stepped away from the window, shutting the panes to the imminent downpour and maneuvering my way around my small herb shop, cleaning any wooden surface, trying to take my mind off the young couple.

I tried not to think about him too much. I could hear the sound his voice in my mind clear as day, telling me he loved me as the life seeped from his eyes. It was almost too much to bear when I was alone…

Our wedding had been traditional, held at midnight like a real Orsimer ceremony. He was dressed in his Orcish robes and I was wearing one of mother's hand-sewn creations. She wasn't there to give me away and my father…he could have cared less about his useless, herb-crushing daughter.

It was all I'd ever been good at it. He was ashamed at how little of a warrior I had become as I grew up. He expected me to be great just like his other sons and daughters, but instead, in my free hours, I worked with plants. Collecting them, mixing them…I'd created small remedies for cuts and burns as a youngling. Soon the other mothers in the stronghold came to me, asking for a cure or a recipe. My father was less than impressed. He'd have rather seen me die in an attempt to slay a frost troll bare-handed…

Not that our wedding mattered anymore. He was dead now, slain by my brothers. My father was disgusted by me the moment I chose to become an herbalist and even further when I made the decision to leave the stronghold. He saw my husband as weak and to prove his point, he sent my own brothers to dispose of him, leaving me to rot…alone, as the outsider he thought I deserved to be.

I walked towards my back room and took off my silver pendant, running my finger over the small engraving in the back of it.

"In times like this, I miss you, Khagra", I whispered to no one. I held the pendant close and remembered the first time I laid eyes on it.

I was barely of age as I walked through the streets of Riften with my pack on my back and a brighter outlook on life. Several people regarded me with fear and with time, they would come to know me as one of the gentlest Orsimer they'd ever come in contact with. I managed to make myself known with my foreign remedies and customers came daily to order and pick up.

A loud commotion was being caused outside of the city and the entire village ran to see the obstruction of peace. Guards were shouting nonsense and I stood tall over the crowd, able to see it all. A male orsimer was fighting his way through a pack of bandits, the guards stole after them, but they'd scattered through the woods after they noticed the quick pursuit, never to be seen again. In their wake, the injured orsimer fell to his knees.

The guards tended to him, lifting him off the ground and bringing him into the city. I ran back to my small stand and pulled out a paste I'd made from one of the cyrodilic spadetail's I'd caught. I mixed in boar's horn powder and ran over to the man, kneeling over him. The guards took a step back, familiar with my work, and let me administer it to him without a word. He looked up at me and laughed, putting himself into a coughing fit. I shook my head and took a look at his wounds.

"They must have wanted you dead for something", I muttered, scooping out the paste with a small wooden spoon and applying it his cuts. He winced as I did this and looked up at me. I could tell he was barely conscious at this point.

"You could say that", he groaned in our native tongue. He stared up at me with wide, dark eyes. I hadn't heard it in about a month and was almost shocked by the sound of it. I was so used to speaking like a nord that my own language felt foreign to me for a fraction of a second.

He was transferred to the Winking Skeever shortly after I remedied him. He continued resting and the guards insisted I check on him frequently.

I waited hand and foot for him endlessly, nursing him back to health like he was a child with a stomach bug.

He'd grown fond of me quickly, making small comments as I brought him his daily herbs to relieve pain and ensure a faster recovery. It was nice to have someone to talk with, to relate to. He understood the feeling of being cast as an outsider by your own kind. We'd both abandoned our strongholds…for different reasons, but never the less, we had become "city-orcs".

After his recovery, he'd even found himself a job at the forgery…an impressive feat. The blacksmith rarely let anyone use his forge, let alone a foreigner.

My small stand was directly across from the forge and I'd catch him staring at me occasionally. He was soon scolded by his superior and he got back to work immediately, crafting weapons for customers.

I found him standing in front of me on one of the slower days. I sat behind my stand, face buried in a book about newly discovered plants and their potential uses. He held up a silver pendant to my face, shaking it slightly. I looked up at him and closed my book, confused.

"You've got hands, don't you?" He said gruffly. I knew he immediately regretted his tone by his following facial expression. I held up my hands and he shoved the necklace into one of them. He turned around wordlessly and walked himself over to the forge, standing at the workbench. I held the pendant in my palm and smiled at it. It was one of the most beautifully crafted pieces of jewelry I'd seen thus far. I left my stand and went over to him quickly, unsure of what this was.

"What's this for?"

"To thank you…" He froze in his seat, drumming his fingers along the iron. My cheeks grew hot and I turned the necklace over in my palm. Markings across the back caught my eye and I read them incredulously. In scrawled letters it read: _I love you._ I felt his gaze on me as I read the short phrase over and over again.

"Is this…" I couldn't even finish the sentence. It'd taken time for him to heal, but I'd never realized he'd grown these types of feelings for me. The phrase warmed me from the inside out and I couldn't keep myself from grinning. I'd never known what love felt like, but in that moment I realized that every time I caught him staring, my heart leaped…every time, I walked over to the forge to ask for a tool to be crafted, I felt myself floating.

"It's true", he wore an amulet of Mara around his neck and my eyes widened.

"Are you…?" I held the cold pendant in my hand and Khagra stood up, holding my other hand in his.

"I am." I was tall, but Khagra towered over me. Next to nords, we were giants. High elves were the only species that challenged our height. "Since the day, I met you, I've known. That first day you were hovering over me, tending to me. I would have died if it weren't for you and I knew in that moment that it had to _be_ you."

"You're insane…" I looked around at the people meandering through the market. None of them were paying attention to us.

"I don't care", he smiled, "I-…um, do you accept?" My heart skipped a beat inside of me and I took my hand from his and slid the pendant over my head gingerly. I nodded quickly and his eyes flooded with relief. He took my hand in his and pulled me close, and for the first time in my life I felt as if I finally belonged to _something._


End file.
